> "Things never go the way we want them to. You either win or lose. But for some, failure becomes second nature. So why keep trying? Might as well give in to your fate."
Those weren't the words of a philosopher.
They came from a child.
A boy who had lost all faith in the world far too early.
He had tasted the raw bitterness of life, that cruel truth adults try to hide from children.
To him, death wasn't a tragic end... it was relief.
The only way out of an unforgiving tunnel.
That boy's name was Yapo.
A young Ivorian born in poverty.
He was only six when he lost both his parents in a car accident.
A tragedy that could have broken him completely…
If not for one man: his grandfather, Amon.
But Amon was no ordinary man.
Behind his gentle hands and tired eyes lay a soul weighed down by grief —
The grief of losing his only daughter, Hélène — Yapo's mother.
She had been his whole world.
She reminded him of his late wife.
So when he held Yapo in his arms, it wasn't just out of duty.
It was love. Instinct. The will to protect what little family he had left.
Yapo, still a child, had no idea how much pain surrounded him.
Amon shielded him so well, that the void left by his parents began to fade.
Love — even broken — has a way of mending the cracks.
And it was in that fragile cocoon that Yapo grew up…
Until he turned eleven.
And that was when his real problems began.
> "The world doesn't judge you for who you are...
But for what it believes you'll never be.
I was condemned before I even had a chance to speak.
But a crushed seed can still break through stone.
Not all men are born equal.
Some walk tall.
Others stay hidden.
Me?
I was the kind you shove for no reason —
The one people crush with a glance, as if I was nothing."
Yapo sat alone on a park bench, his head down, arms folded across his knees.
The sun was setting, casting golden light on the buildings around him.
Alone, as always.
It was in these moments of solitude that his thoughts wandered.
He remembered the first day he walked through the school gates at eleven.
It was supposed to be a fresh start.
A place to make new friends, to learn, to grow.
But the reality was different.
Middle school was a jungle.
And it welcomed him with suspicious stares, whispers in the hallway, and subtle insults that quickly turned into open attacks.
Everything about him — his height, his timid face, his voice — made him an easy target.
He recalled those first few months — each day a new trial.
One day, he was late to recess, and a group of kids verbally pounced on him.
They mocked his worn shoes, his old uniform, his shaved hair.
What started as teasing turned into torment.
Désiré, the biggest kid in class, led the pack.
Yapo remembered when he shoved him in the hallway.
— "Still got mud on your feet, Yapo? You're too slow to keep up with us!"
Laughter exploded behind him as Yapo stood there, silent, eyes to the floor, burning with shame.
This became his routine.
He tried to disappear into books, hoping it would pass.
But the teasing got worse.
The laughs sharper.
And every day, that feeling returned —
I can't do anything.
I don't even know how to fight back.
One afternoon, sitting under a tree after school, he thought of Amon —
The old man who had taught him everything… except how to fight back.
Amon had taught him patience.
To breathe before reacting.
To never let anger control him.
But he had never taught him what to do when the world wanted you crushed.
One day, Yapo finally opened up.
He told his grandfather about the bullying.
The insults. The pain. The silence.
Amon had listened, quietly. Then he asked:
— "Do you want to become like them, Yapo?
Or do you want to learn to push them back?"
Yapo had no answer. He lowered his gaze.
He didn't want to become like them.
But he didn't know how to become anything else either.
His classmates didn't get it.
They didn't understand what it was like to be mocked daily.
To feel worthless.
To feel powerless.
One evening, after another brutal day, Yapo stood in front of the bathroom mirror.
He looked at himself.
Tired eyes.
A face worn down by mockery and silence.
He hated what he saw.
"I need to change."
That sentence echoed in his mind.
He didn't mean brute strength.
He meant character.
The kind of strength that doesn't break when others try to crush you.
The kind of strength that allows you to say: Enough.
He didn't know how…
But in that moment, he made a decision.
He would learn.
To fight.
To protect himself.
To become someone.
He didn't yet know that this decision would change everything.
That this was only the beginning.